


don't go without me

by Veilder



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 is bad at feelings, DBH Rarepairs Week, F/M, North is a gosh darn hero, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Prompt: Fight vs Flight, Sixty is full of angst and bad decisions (and knives), Suicidal Thoughts, Warning: Sixty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veilder/pseuds/Veilder
Summary: “Perhaps I’m just looking for a fight,” he says.“A fight, huh? And do you think you can win?” She smirks, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight.And... miraculously, he feels his own lips quirk in answer. “Do you?”An android driven to his lowest point stares down into the icy water, looking for salvation. He’s pulled back from the edge just in time to find it.
Relationships: CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/North
Comments: 30
Kudos: 68





	don't go without me

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Day 2 of [DBH Rarepairs Week!](https://dbhrarepairs.tumblr.com/post/190688830077/welcome-to-our-third-detroit-become-human)
> 
> For the prompt “Fight vs Flight.”
> 
> First of all, please heed the tags for this one. While I don’t go into a lot of detail, this fic still deals with some very heavy subjects. There are motifs of hopelessness and suicidal ideation scattered throughout for anyone out there who might be sensitive to such subjects. 
> 
> That being said, this fic was written as a response to a proposed scenario on a Discord server I’m a part of. Suffice to say that Sixty wasn’t… exactly the best person in it and the way he ended up rang very hollow for me. I wrote this as a follow-up to that which is why it might seem like it pics up rather abruptly. I changed the opening a little bit to reflect a more open-ended sort of scenario but if something doesn’t make sense, feel free to mention it in a comment and I’ll try to explain as best I can, lol. 
> 
> Title comes from the absolutely gorgeous song by the Civil Wars, [C'est la Mort](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z50k367WgPs), which seems to fit the whole theme of this fic very well. It's a rather dark song, but it's so beautiful. Check it out if you're at all curious!
> 
> And finally, big shoutout to my friend, [alettepegasus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alettepegasus/pseuds/alettepegasus), who proofread this and also gave me such great feedback! As always, you’re the best, AP!
> 
> Now, on with the show! Hope y’all enjoy one of my favorite rarepairs ever! ^_^

The crescent moon sheds a pallid light across the mist and water down below, the docks cast in shades of silver and shadow. Sixty approaches from between the wreckage of abandoned warehouses and capsized ships, the carmine light at his temple diffusing and scattering as he weaves his way forward with thoughtless intent.  
  
He finds himself reeling from his latest encounter. Driven by an insatiable need to _belong_ somewhere, to do more than just _exist,_ he had taken drastic measures. Had gone against his predecessor once more. And his plan had worked, for the most part. He had driven away those that Fifty-One cared for the most. Made them doubt him, planted the seeds of mistrust and suspicion. It wasn’t until far, far too late that he had been discovered… So why does he feel so hollow? He set this all up, so why does it feel like he’s lost yet another thing to _Connor?  
  
_ He can’t understand it. He can’t— He needs to analyze these feelings. He needs to destroy something. He needs to delete the memory of it all. He needs to deactivate.  
  
With this jumble of emotion in his head, he wanders, the stress and error messages lending themselves well to the way he wishes to lose himself.  
  
He finds his feet have led him to the wreckage of the Jericho, the place Connor had betrayed CyberLife. The last of the recollections he’d received from his predecessor. The reason he is alive at all.  
  
He stares at the wreckage, half-submerged in the harbor. He wonders what it might be like to step from the berth. He wonders how long his biocomponents would hold out against the icy chill.  
  
Perhaps the churning water below might fill the hollowness inside him.  
  
“It’s best to stand back,” a voice proclaims from the darkness. “You’d freeze up in there before I’d get the chance to pull you out.”  
  
Sixty feels the fog recede for a moment as he turns, regarding this new person. Red hair done up in a long braid, muddied clothing, fierce eyes. The android woman, their _esteemed leader’s_ partner.  
  
Her name is North and, until now, Sixty has only ever met her in his memories.  
  
He turns back around, contemplating if jumping might not be the better route out of this encounter. But the calming fog that had enveloped his mind is gone now and that pesky will to live has returned. He sighs. What a shame.  
  
“And what do you want?” he sneers, keeping his eyes focused on the wreckage. “I’m not Connor. You don’t have to worry about me.”  
  
He hears her scoff. “You think I can’t tell one android from another? You unique models, always thinking you’re special.”  
  
He registers her approaching and instinctively reaches for the knife he keeps tucked up his sleeve. She chuckles. “I guess you know me, then, is that right? Or are you just this wary of everyone?”  
  
He hears the mockery in her tone and he bristles. “Perhaps I’m just looking for a fight,” he says, finally deigning to look over at her again.   
  
Her stance is loose and unworried, the epitome of confidence. Sixty remembers feeling that way once upon a time. Before he’d been shot. Before he’d been returned to this joke of a life. Of course, that confidence had turned out to be as fake as he himself. An imitation. A mask. He’d failed his mission. What use was there for it anymore?  
  
“A fight, huh? And do you think you can win?” She smirks, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
And... miraculously, he feels his own lips quirk in answer. “Do you?” He asks.  
  
She tosses her head back in laughter before she charges him. And for a glorious few minutes, the hollowness recedes.  
  
  


* * *

He is the undisputed victor, there’s no arguing that. She holds a wadded up piece of cloth under her nose to staunch the Thirium flow until her self-healing can redirect it. The sheen of blue on her face is familiar. He has the memory file logged in his mind. But this... it is more visceral in real life.  
  
“You feeling better now, big guy?” she asks, and he finds amusement in the way she muffles her words; her audio processor has not been damaged, she’s doing it purely because of her nose. It’s... dare he say it, _cute.  
  
_ “I am working optimally.” He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He had not reverted to pre-programmed prompts for a long time now and he feels disgusted at the regression. “I mean... I’m fine.”  
  
She chuckles again. “Good to hear.”  
  
They sit in silence under the waning moon, feet dangling off the pier. They are vulnerable this way and his HUD is warning of proximity dangers. One small push and... off he goes... Or inversely, he could reach out and—  
  
He wonders what code is in him that allows him to disdain the idea? He would sooner rip out his regulator than follow through with that thought.  
  
“Markus was worried about you, you know?” she says after a time and Sixty strains the couplings in his neck turning to face her. “After you left New Jericho... He didn’t know where you went. You dropped off the grid and cut contact with us and... Well, we like to check up on everyone from time to time. We thought the worst when we couldn’t reach you.”  
  
He is flabbergasted. All this time, she knew him. Knew exactly which unit he was. The RK800-60, the other Connor, the _failure._ What was she even doing, wasting her time on him?!  
  
But she continues on. “Look...” She takes a deep breath through her newly-healed nose. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see what I did. You, looking down into the water like it holds all life’s answers. But it doesn’t have to be like this.” She gets to her feet then and he can’t stop his eyes from widening as she extends a hand. “There is hope for you. Come back to New Jericho with me and we can find you a place there. We can get you some help."  
  
He doesn’t know what to say. And so, naturally, he blurts out the wrong thing. “What, tired of your little figurehead playing cop? Is having Connor gone hurting your image?” He feels the nasty smile stretching his faceplates and wishes he could stop himself.  
  
But bad choices are his forte; at least he excels at something.  
  
She merely gives him a disappointed look. “Do you need your audio processors checked? I already told you I know you’re not Connor.” She pauses then, looking bashful. “Ah, unless you kept that name?”  
  
He shakes his head. “No!” The vehement denial feels good on his tongue. “That’s not my name!”  
  
She tilts her head. “And... what is it, then?”  
  
Her arm is still outstretched, her offer still dangling before him. He looks back down to the water below... One slip and he’d be gone... But the moon is reflected in the water like it shines upon her face. His CPU purrs as he turns back to her.  
  
He takes her hand.  
  
“My name is Sixty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Best wishes!
> 
> ~Veil


End file.
